Eulogy
by Penguins Stealing My Sanity
Summary: Harry is dead. Draco reflects on the past. Oneshot, slash HPDM. It's sad, but I added some amusing parts to relieve the sadness...oh, just read it. I hate summaries...


**Title:** Eulogy  
**Author:** Penguins Stealing My Sanity  
**Disclaimer:** I can't come up with anything else witty to say. You all know the drill.  
**Summary:** Harry is dead. Draco reflects on the past. One-shot, slash HPDM. Warning: THIS IS NOT GOING TO BE HAPPY. The penguins nearly cried. Though parts of it are rather amusing…Harry and Draco drunk, locked in a closet… heh heh.  
**Genre:** Romance/Angst  
**Warnings:** Slash HPDM, OOC  
**Rating:** R

**Setting: **Let's say seventh year, Hogwarts. Completely discard Half-Blood Prince, because this fic doesn't hold up against it.

Since "Rise and Fall" seems to be going over so well, I've decided to keep that style going. More dark stuff, again in a songfic, this time to the awesome lyrics of Tool's "Eulogy." A very apt title, since Draco will be reflecting on his rather odd relationship with Harry.

Flashbacks arelike _:This: _(because none of the other symbols I wanted would _work_ here...); song lyrics are in **bold**. _/This/_ will denote a kind of vision…you'll understand, don't worry.

As always, read and _please_ review. I've gotten so many hits on "Rise and Fall" so I figure people must like it, but _no one_ reviews! GHAR!

Bob: Get over it.

You shut up!

I hope you all like this. I'm working my fingers off at 1:00 pm for all you! The least you could do is review and congratulate me for my dedication or call me an idiot for not sleeping.

Bob: Oh! Oh! Do that last one!

Shut up, Bob.

**- Eulogy -**

**:> By Penguins Stealing My Sanity :> **

It was a warm day, exactly the opposite of how I felt inside. I couldn't stand the stuffiness of the castle, the depression that seemed to permeate everything. Why did everyone have to be so damned sad? I had more reason to than any of them did. Why couldn't they all just suck it up and let _me_ be sad? I deserved it more than anyone else did, but no one else seemed aware of the fact.

I made my way out of Hogwarts, down to the edge of the lake, where I sat down on the muddy shore, not caring that I was ruining perfectly good robes. Things like that didn't matter to me anymore. I hadn't brushed my hair in days, hadn't had a good night's sleep in longer time than that. I looked like crap, but I really didn't give a damn.

**He had a lot to say.****  
****He had a lot of nothing to say.****  
****We'll miss him.**

I yanked a blade of grass from the ground, and slowly tore it into tiny bits; then watched those bits flutter back down to the ground, to blend in with the rest of the grass. Things—like the blades of grass—died; they then went back to what had created them; then, years later, they would grow back into what they had been.

"_The pain will go away with time."_

"_Old wounds will heal."_

"_You'll barely remember it all in a few years."_

It all sounded so fucking simple, like something a teacher would say to a class of five-year-olds. I wasn't five anymore, and I knew better than to believe lies like that. The pain would never go away; I wouldn't let it escape. I didn't want my wounds to heal, I wanted them to fester, fester until I was so infected that death was the only possibility. And I would never forget it. No matter how long I lived, I would never allow myself to forget any of it.

**So long.****  
****We wish you well.****  
****You told us how you weren't afraid to die.****  
****Well then, so long.****  
****Don't cry.****  
****Or feel too down.****  
****Not all martyrs see divinity.****  
****But at least you tried.**

_:"I won't be gone long. I'll be back before you know it."_

"_I don't believe you for a second."_

"_I never expected you would. But you're going to have to trust me on this, Draco. I know what I'm doing."_

"_I don't believe that either."_

"_Why do you always have to be so difficult?"_

"_It keeps us both sane.":_

I felt anything but sane right now. How could I? The one thing I'd based my life on, the one thing that had kept me going through everything…was gone. Like magic.

I gave a humorless laugh. Magic. Who cared about magic anymore? It had killed him; indirectly, it was killing me now. I hated magic. I'd broken my wand when I'd found out what had happened; the pieces were swimming with the giant squid now.

_:"I wish you didn't have to go."_

"_I don't want to go, either. But I have to. You said you understood…"_

"_I do. But I don't have to like it."_

"_I love you.":_

No one could have stopped it from happening, they'd told me. They'd described it in great detail, far more detail than I'd wanted, and I could see it perfectly in my mind, could see it all happen. It was like a movie, playing over and over inside my head. I couldn't make it stop, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. It would keep my wounds open…festering…

**Standing above the crowd,****  
****He had a voice that was strong and loud.****  
****We'll miss him.****  
****Ranting and pointing his finger****  
****At everything but his heart.****  
****We'll miss him.**

_/Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, stood atop the hastily-erected podium, shouting denunciation upon denunciation of Voldemort and all his followers. His green eyes gleamed with passionate fervor—/_ How many times I had seen those eyes alight with passion… _/—as his voice grew louder and louder, his accusations growing in severity, until he made it sound as if Voldemort were single-handedly responsible for anything minorly horrible since the beginning of time. The crowd cheered him on wildly, but he continued on, shouting over their voices…/_

He was stupid. So fucking stupid. If anyone had bothered to think at all…

_/The shout of "Avada Kedavra!" didn't truly register until the black-haired young man went tumbling over backwards, landing—unmoving—in a heap. There was a moment of stunned silence; then, someone cried out, and the area was filled with screams. Hermoine Granger, Harry's self-elected campaign manager, rushed onto the podium, knelt down at the Chosen One's side—then started sobbing. "He's dead!" she wailed, and the cry was taken up by every voice in the crowd. No one even considered trying to find out who had killed the Boy Who (no longer) Lived; everyone was too shocked to think of something like that./_

Fucking idiots.

**No way to recall****  
****What it was that you had said to me,****  
****Like I care at all.**

_:"Be careful."_

"_You know I always am."_

"_Something just doesn't feel right about this. I don't think you should go."_

"_Stop worrying!" Lips brushed gently against mine, a strong hand gently cradling the back of my neck. "Nothing's going to happen. I'm going to be gone for a few days, and then I'll be back and we can…" I sighed happily as he gently chewed on my ear, hands running slowly up and down my spine. Comforted, I let him go.:_

I was as much to blame as anyone else. I'd known something was going to happen, had felt the sense of "wrongness"—but I had been as convinced as he was of his immortality, and so hadn't worried as much as I should have.

**So loud.****  
****You sure could yell.****  
****You took a stand on every little thing****  
****And so loud.**

_Why?_ I thought at the dead young man. _Why did you leave me? I can't go on alone…you knew that, and still you left me. Left me to die. Alone. Heartbroken._

**Standing above the crowd,****  
****He had a voice so strong and loud and I****  
****Swallowed his facade cuz I'm so****  
****Eager to identify with****  
****Someone above the ground,****  
****Someone who seemed to feel the same,****  
****Someone prepared to lead the way, with****  
****Someone who would die for me.**

I felt tears run down my cheeks, but I didn't even try to stop them. It was pointless. Unbidden, memories had risen to the surface to claim my thoughts…

_:I'd already drank far too much butterbeer, considering the Yule Ball had only been going on for two hours at most. I was roaring drunk, and feeling rather happy about the fact—until my stomach decided I'd had too much. I sprinted for the restroom and made it just in time._

_When I'd finished in there, I made my way back to the Great Hall, but ended up in a closet instead. I was soon lost inside the closet, and I didn't trust myself to be able to say "Lumos!" or to make the right wand movements. So I stumbled around in the dark, trying to find the door—when it flew open right in my face._

_I stumbled back against the wall, cursing and clutching my nose, my eyes watering fiercely. _

"_Tha' you, Malfoy?" a slurred voice asked. Potter sounded like he was as drunk as I was._

"_Yes, you fucking idiot, and you just fucking hit me!"_

"_I dinnit touch you." I moved from behind the door; in the light from the hallway, I could see Potter swaying unsteadily in the doorway._

"_The fucking door hit me!"_

"_Tha's not my fault. You shouldn' a'been standin' behind the door."_

_No, Potter sounded even drunker than I was. My voice wasn't slurring that bad…or maybe Potter had never gotten really drunk before. I found the thought amusing, for some reason. "Asshole!"_

"_Now, you lis'en 'ere, Malfoy—"_

"_What're you gonna do?" I taunted. "Puke on me?"_

_He stepped forward with an angry bellow, his fists swinging wildly. Even drunk as I was, it wasn't hard to avoid the punches, and I managed to bury my fist in his stomach. He stumbled back against the door, unintentionally slamming it shut, and we were surrounded by darkness again. _

"_You fucking idiot!"_

"_ME? You're the one who punched me!"_

"_And that's your fault, too!"_

"_Bastard. I hate you."_

"_Believe me, Potter, the feeling's mutal—mutulal—mootul—damnit! I hate you, too."_

"_Good. 'Cause I hate you."_

"_Well, I hate you more."_

"_Do not!_

"_Do too!"_

"_Do not!"_

"_Do t—this is stupid! Move, Potter, and let me get out of here." I stumbled forward, tripped over something, and fell against the other boy._

"_What're you DOING! Gerrof me!"_

"_Shut up and move, Potter, and maybe I won't punch you again."_

_A bellow of anger echoed through the closet, and I found myself suddenly pinned against the opposite wall. His fist connected with the side of my face, the other fist with my stomach, and I doubled over, gasping. "Fucking bastard!" he yelled, and kicked me in the shin. I swore and collapsed, one arm holding my stomach, the other hand grabbing my shin, where I could already feel a bump rising. He fell on top of me, pinning me to the floor, and punched me in the face again._

"_Potter!" I gasped before he could punch me again. "Stop—"_

"_What, did I hurt you?" he snarled. "Poor Dwaco Malfoy, got huwt by wittle Hawwy Potter."_

"_Shut up!"_

_He wrapped his hands around my throat and shook me. Gasping for breath, I managed to find the energy to lift my fist and slam it into the side of his head. He toppled off me and I scrambled up, sneering, and raced for where I hoped the door was. I grabbed the handle, pulled—it didn't budge._

"_The fucking door's _locked_!"_

"_You hit me," Potter whined. I heard cloth rustle as he got up. "My nose is bleeding."_

"_Just returning the favor," I sneered. "We have to get out of here, Potter."_

"_Open the door, wanker."_

"_Didn't you hear me? It's locked!"_

"_Oh. Well…what're we gonna do?"_

"_I DON'T KNOW!"_

"_Malfoy…are—are we gonna die?"_

"_I'll kill you if you don't shut up and let me think."_

"_Malfoy…I'm sorry."_

"_You should be. Now shut up."_

_He was silent for a little while, while my drunken brain tried to think of something._

"_Malfoy…I love you."_

"_WHAT!"_

"_I love you," he repeated softly, and then pressed up against my side._

"_Potter—!"_

_I didn't get the chance to say anything else, for his mouth pressed against mine. He pried my lips open with his mouth, and his warm breath slipped between my lips, his tongue following not long after. His mouth tasted very strongly of butterbeer, and I found the taste insanely arousing._

_I lurched forward, pressing him against a wall, and scrabbled to get his shirt off. His own hands were working at my pants, and I groaned softly as his fingers brushed against my erection beneath pants that were suddenly too tight. I gave up on his shirt and my hands slid lower. He'd gotten my pants and boxers off before I could get my fingers and brain to work together in getting the button undone; it certainly didn't help matters when his warm fingers wrapped around my exposed arousal._

_I forgot all about getting his pants off; my attention was only on his fingers rubbing against my flesh, pulling, squeezing…_

_I found myself being dragged down to the ground, the grip on my masculinity offering no room for argument. I convinced myself that I had to get his pants off _now_, and we both scrabbled towards those ends. He lifted his hips, and I yanked the pants off; boxers followed soon after, and then I fell on top of him kissing him with a fierce passion I had never felt before. He thrust his hips up against mine and we moaned simultaneously in pleasure._

_I couldn't bear to wait anymore. I plunged into him, felt him surround me, and we both cried out in pleasure—:_

I stopped that memory before it could go any farther. _How can a simple memory bring so much pain?_ I thought as I furiously scrubbed at my wet cheeks with the back of my hand. _It's just a memory—it's not real, not anymore…_

**Will you? Will you now?****  
****Would you die for me?****  
****Don't you fuckin lie.**

**Don't you step out of line.****  
****Don't you fuckin lie.**

So many happy days and nights, so many memories…I wanted nothing to do with them. He was dead, and I wished I'd died with him. But I hadn't, and so I wanted no reminders of him… But, no, that was too simple. I _didn't_ want to forget. Ever. I would remember, for the rest of my life…

**You've claimed all this time that you would die for me.****  
****Why then are you so surprised to hear your own eulogy?**

**You had a lot to say.****  
****You had a lot of nothing to say.**

_Come back,_ I pleaded silently, fresh tears staining my cheeks. _Please. I need you. I've never needed anything so bad…_

_:"Harry?"_

_He looked up from the book he was reading, a smile on his face; but the smile faded as he saw the expression on my own face. "Draco, what's wrong?"_

_His arms enveloped me, and I clung to him, sobbing into his shoulder. The other Gryffindors in the common room are by now used to seeing me here, with Harry, but they're _not_ used to seeing this side of Draco Malfoy. No one but Harry had ever seen me cry before…_

"_What's wrong?" he asked again, strong hands gently stroking my back._

"_M-m-mother," I stammered, still clinging to him. "She was k-k-killed. By V-Vold—Vold—by You-Know-Who."_

_He stared at me in shock, and then hugged me tightly. "Drake, I'm sorry. So sorry…":_

He'd always been there for me. He'd promised he always would be. And yet…here I was, sitting alone, sobbing like a young child robbed of a sweet.

_He lied to me._

The thought burrowed slowly into my brain; once there, it grew and grew and grew, uncontrollably, forming into anger, then fury, then rage, until I scrambled to my feet and yanked off the ring he'd given me just before he left. With a shout that contained all this sudden fury, I hurled the ring, half expecting it to land on the other side of the lake. But it didn't, it landed with a small plop near the middle of the lake, and was gone.

I collapsed back to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably, all rage gone, replaced by an infinite sadness.

_:"Wait—there's something I want you to have, before I leave."_

"_What?" I asked suspiciously. The last conversation that had started like this, he'd put a dead frog in my hand while my eyes were closed. "Don't ask me to close my eyes, because I'm not going to."_

"_It'd be harder for you to see it if your eyes were closed," he said as he straightened. He quickly shoved something into my hand, his ears red, but a look of excitement in his eyes._

_A small, ordinary box sat in my palm, and I looked up at him questioningly. "Open it," he urged, his eyes even brighter._

_I gave him another suspicious look, but flicked open the top of the box—and gasped. Nestled on a little red velvet pillow sat a ring. I stared at it, then stared at him, then back at the ring, eyes wide, jaw hanging. "What…? Is it…is this what I think it is?"_

"_Depends on what you're thinking," he said smugly. "Are you going to let me put it on, or just stand there looking like an idiot?"_

_Still gaping, I handed him the box; he removed the ring and slid it on to the appropriate finger, grinning all the while. I was about to say something when a voice drifted up from below: "Harry! We have to go—NOW!"_

_Harry swore, muttered something about Hermoine being a control freak, then kissed me._

"_I wish you didn't have to go," I said softly, holding tightly onto his shoulders. _

"_I don't want to go, either. But I have to. You said you understood…"_

"_I do. But I don't have to like it."_

"_I love you…":_

I hated him. I loved him. I was confused it felt like my head was going to spin off. Tired of wallowing in self-pity, I slowly dragged myself to my feet and started back towards the castle. Abruptly, I felt the absence of the ring on my finger, and began sobbing all over again as I called myself a thousand different kinds of fool.

It was gone. Just as irretrievable as its giver was.

Alternately swearing and sobbing, I went back into the school.

**Come down.****  
****Get off your fuckin cross.****  
****We need the fuckin space to nail the next fool martyr.**

**To ascend you must die.****  
****You must be crucified****  
****For your sins and your lies.****  
****Goodbye...**

* * *

That turned out better than I'd hoped. I thought the ending was a bit weak, but, hey, no one's perfect. I'd really appreciate your opinion (hint hint, nudge nudge). So, review, please.

:>


End file.
